All we need is each other
by Cats070911
Summary: Feeling abandoned by Barbara, Tommy has retreated to Howenstowe to brood his loss. Will he be brave enough to confront her and uncover the truth?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. This story is the product of a miserable night spent alone in the bathroom passing small kidney stones.

* * *

Tommy stared out at the ocean watching a pod of dolphins frolic ahead of a fishing boat heading out for the night catch. Along the shoreline, sunlight danced on the crests of breaking waves, which rumbled over the sandbar near the river mouth, roiling the golden sand into a turbid chaotic mess. His mouth curled into a half smile. He was like that sandbar, ever-changing as life washed over him and dragged him into turbulence that he never asked for, never wanted. Once he too had sunshine to light his way. Now... Now that had faded to blackness.

Behind him the low brush that edged the beach hummed with the strengthening wind. The azure depths that had earlier beckoned, taunting him to swim out to them, were turning grey. Out to sea, leaden clouds began to build, threatening a storm. The sting of salt tickled his nostrils making him snort. His backside was numb, a sensation that began to creep down his leg. The rock Tommy was sitting on dug into his thigh, but he did not bother to move, unable to tear his eyes from the building waves. When the numbness in his leg reached his foot, Tommy heaved himself to his feet. His leg almost gave way, so he shook it until the tingling of pins and needles replaced the deadness. He turned and slowly began to make his way back to Howenstowe.

By using the kitchen entrance, he avoided his mother who was talking with someone on the telephone in the library. He tip-toed past the door and up the stairs to his room. From the decanter he kept on his dresser, he slopped whiskey into a glass until it was almost full. Crossing the room, he opened the window then sagged into a low-backed red Chesterfield so he could view the approaching tempest.

"There you are," Dorothy said as she knocked once and opened his door. "I've been worried about you being out in this weather."

Tommy glanced at his watch. "Don't fuss, Mother. I've been back for hours. I was watching the storm." His voice was unsteady, even to his ears, but he was not too inebriated to notice his mother glare at his glass.

"Hours? I see. Are you joining us for dinner?"

"Could you ask the cook to send it up, please? I don't feel like company."

"Then why did you come here, if all you are going to do is sit in here and slowly drink yourself to death?"

Tommy looked away. "Don't be melodramatic. It's beneath you."

"Grrr. If you want your meal sent up, ask Cook yourself. At least that way you have to say more than three words to someone other than me." Dorothy turned and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

When the telephone rang just before supper, Dorothy hoped it would be Barbara. Hello."

"Hello, Mother."

"Oh, Judith. Good evening."

"You sound tired. How is he?"

"The same. He sits in his room and sips whiskey all day unless he goes for a walk down to the beach. He doesn't think I know, but he's been here four days, and we have gone through six bottles of Glenmorangie. Tonight he didn't eat because I told him if he wanted to have dinner in his room he had to ask Cook. He didn't bother."

"Do you know what happened?"

"No idea, but every time I ask about Barbara, he gets touchy. I'm sure something happened between them."

"Do you think he finally told her how he feels and she rejected him?"

"Possibly, although I can't see that. I doubt he's said anything. He probably just expects her to know. I wondered if perhaps she has found someone else and he's brooding."

Judith groaned. "He'd be devastated. Do you think he knows he loves her?"

"No, probably not. I've tried to talk to him, but... there's still distance between us."

"I'll come down tomorrow. Maybe he'll talk to his big sister."

"Oh, thank you. Let's hope so."

* * *

Unable to bear more of his mother's concerned looks, Tommy slipped out of the house before daybreak. He followed the trail along the tops of the cliffs, pausing for a long time at the spot where he had once sat with Barbara. With his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his palms, he stared aimlessly at the expansion of blue dotted with diamonds of light.

He missed her. They were the inadequate words formed by his mind to describe the wrenching ache that gripped his body. His heart beat erratically. It slowed when he thought of her sitting in his office calmly going over their notes on a case. It raced when he remembered how it had felt watching her falling after being shot, and it momentarily stopped when he thought about her desperate need for his comfort after facing down Garrett.

Needing each other had been like requiring oxygen. Just as breathing was automatic, their friendship had been without effort. They had just always been there for the other, knowing what each other would say, or often not say. His sergeant, a most unlikely friend, steered him faithfully back on course whenever his emotions got the better of him. She was his rock, his anchor in the tumultuous sea of his existence. Barbara had given him the two most precious things in life, understanding and hope. Now, inexplicably, she had snatched them away leaving him rudderless and adrift. Alone. Lonely. Wondering how he could face going on.

Only recently they had seemed to have been even closer. Then she had just started to drift away from him. She still went to the pub with him and sat in his car as they drove and tried to dissect their cases. She still smiled at him, laughed with him, argued with him. On the surface, everything was the same. But underneath, something had altered. She seemed remote, withdrawn, unwilling to allow their souls to converse in a realm beyond sight. The mutual tranquillity of being together was gone. They had lost their intangible connection.

He ran his fingers vigorously back and forth across his scalp trying to erase the pain. He had spent days contemplating everything that had happened, searching for the reason it had all gone wrong; looking for a way back to her. For years he had believed he was essential to her. Now he felt disposable or even disposed of. It always seemed to happen. He was the person everyone replaced when they tired of his selfishness or his money.

But Barbara? She had always been there for him, even when he did not deserve it. Nothing had shaken her belief in him, no matter how idiotically he had behaved. Was it because he had stabilised and no longer needed saving? Was he just her way of paying the world back? A charity case? A moral obligation? Or worse, a penance?

He pulled out his phone and pressed her short dial.

"Havers."

"How's London?" He tried to sound cheery.

"Sir. Why are you ringing? How's your mother?"

"Mother?"

"Isn't that why you went to Cornwall?"

Tommy remembered his cover story. "Oh, yes. She's feeling a bit stronger, thank you."

"Good."

"What's happening there?"

"Not much. I finished the report on the Sanders case. You owe me on that one."

"I'll repay you when I get back. Perhaps we can have dinner?"

Barbara laughed. "A simple thank you is enough. Look, Sir, I have to go. Take care."

"Wait..." The phone went dead. The relief and joy he had felt when he heard her voice vaporised. He felt more abandoned than ever.

* * *

From half a mile out he could see Judith's car parked at the end of the driveway. "Bloody Mother, sending for reinforcements," he grumbled.

His sister was waiting near the door and pounced as soon as he crossed the threshold. "Tommy! Isn't it wonderful that we are both here at the same time and it's not Easter or Christmas."

"Mother sent for you I presume."

"Tom-my. Don't be like that."

"Simply stating the truth. Do you deny it?

"No. She's worried about you."

"No need, I'm fine." He tried to push past her.

She grabbed his arm. "And drinking over a bottle of whisky a day is fine, is it? I'd hate to see you not doing well."

"Then don't stay, because tonight I intend to drink two." He turned to walk to the stairs.

Judith's fingers dug into his arm, making him wince. "It's Barbara, isn't it? Something happened. Believe it or not, I am a good listener."

"Barbara's fine." Tommy felt his face darken. He was unsure if it was rage or embarrassment. "Now let go of me."

He began to walk up the stairs. Judith released his arm but trailed after him. "Then what is it, Tommy? Why are you so sad?"

"Sad? Sad is such a weak adjective. Try desolate. Or despondent. Or despairing. Even depressed. Anything but sad."

Despite his attempts to wrestle her away, Judith squeezed into his room. "Then little brother, talk to me. Tell me what's troubling you."

"I just want to be alone, to disappear." He made a show of filling his glass with whiskey.

"When people say that, they usually mean that they want to be found."

"Well, I don't. People have made it quite clear that I am not as important to them as I thought. So I am happy to oblige and keep out of their way." Tommy walked to the window and stared out, not focussing on anything.

"By people, you mean Barbara."

Tommy whirled around. "Why does everyone assume everything is about her?"

"Because for years it has been. Helen's been gone over two years. You haven't had any other relationships. All you ever talk about is Barbara. Do you think we're blind? Of course, this is about her. Otherwise, you would be with her, not hiding down here."

Tommy sighed and slumped into his chair. "We used to talk about everything, anything but now... she's drifted away from me and... I don't understand why. I don't know what I did."

"What happened ?"

"Nothing. That's just it. She started withdrawing a month or so ago. We still have polite conversations, but... it's not the same."

"And you miss that?"

Tommy glared at his sister. "What do you think? Would I be like this if I didn't?"

Judith came over and put her arm around him. "No, of course not. Tommy, hiding here won't help. You have to talk to her. Find out what's happening. Tell her you love her."

"Tell her what?"

"Oh, you can't tell me you're this upset if you don't love her. Are you a complete numbskull?"

"I don't... not like Deborah, or Helen. It's different."

"Yes, but no less real. Maybe more real. Sit and brood here if you must but at least spend the time dealing with reality. Maybe Barbara got tired of waiting for you."

"She... I... I do love her. She's my soulmate... but... like that?"

Judith stepped away and ran her hand through her hair. "Oh, surely you must have thought about it before. Can you honestly tell me that you've never thought about taking her to your bed? I know you, Thomas Lynley."

He leant forward and twisted his glass absentmindedly as he stared at the floor. "I can't. But I force those thoughts aside. It seems..."

"Right?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

"Improper. My feelings for Barbara, they haven't changed. They've intensified, but not changed. That would mean..."

"You were in love with her while Helen was alive; even before you were married. Yes. I think you were. So what? How does that prevent you from acting now? Tell her. Maybe that's what she needs to hear."

"And if... that's not how she feels?"

"Then at least you know. You can then move forward instead of locking yourself away up here and mourning the past."

"I... can't." Tommy gulped a large slug of whisky.

"Then you are a bigger fool than I thought. Do you want me to send up dinner?"

Tommy shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Judith muttered something he was glad he did not hear. "Then sit here and think about what I said. Only you can find the truth, Tommy, not Mother or me, or even Barbara. And I'll give you a hint for free - the answer is not in the bottom of that glass."


	2. Chapter 2

Judith found her mother in the kitchen. "Morning, Mother. Tommy not down yet?"

"I imagine my son has a hangover this morning. I heard him pacing most of the night."

"I'll go and check if you like."

Dorothy smiled. "Thank you. I think he sees me and closes off even more. He was always a solitary child, but this time... he's lonely. It's worse than when Helen died because then he had his guilt for company. Now he has nothing."

"I'm sure he has Barbara if he'd just talk to her."

Judith returned a few minutes later. "He's gone. He left this note. It just says he has returned to London and will be in touch."

"Has he taken the car? He's probably well over the limit."

"He has, but the bottles he had were unopened. I think he sobered himself up."

"We only hope he knows what he's doing."

* * *

Tommy had no clue what he was going to say. He had spent the night drinking coffee, taking cold showers, napping and breathing deeply in an attempt to sober up as quickly as he could. Lynley knew it was in vain and that his body would only process the alcohol at a set rate, but it had given him a focus. The pocket breathalyser that he now kept in his glovebox reassured him that he was just below the legal limit. In six hours when he reached London, he would be perfectly sober.

The drive seemed eternal. Roadworks around Bristol delayed him, and the ring road into London was bumper to bumper, even just before noon. He drove into Camden five minutes after one o'clock.

Before he rang her bell, Tommy stood on her doorstep for five minutes adjusting his clothes, smoothing his hair and getting his breathing under control. "Here goes."

"Coming," she called out from well inside her flat.

At least she was home. He knew she was rostered off for the next two days, but being a Thursday, he feared she might have been out running errands.

The door swung open. "Sir? What... why?"

"I'm sorry to arrive unannounced."

Barbara shook her head. "That's fine. Come in. Do you want tea or coffee?"

"Coffee?" he asked as he followed her into her flat.

"It's a hot black drink that you like."

"Yes, I know what it is. Sorry. Yes. Coffee would be lovely."

Barbara pointed to the coat hook, and the couch then busied herself in the kitchen boiling water and looking for two matching cups. "How's your mother?"

"Better," he lied. "Judith came down... so I... came back here."

She looked across and frowned. "We're not rostered on until Sunday. You could have stayed and spent more time there."

"I wanted to be here."

Barbara shrugged. She passed him a cup of steamy coffee. He sipped it and sighed. "Hmm, it's good. Just the way I like it."

"Well, I've made enough cups for you in recent years to know how you like it."

She screwed up her face as if in thought. Tommy felt he was being scrutinised, so broke the developing awkward silence. "What's been happening?"

"Not much. Look, Sir, I don't mind you coming over, but something is on your mind. Why don't we skip the small talk and you just tell me."

Tommy's ears burned. She had seen right through him as she always did. "I... I lied to you. Mother wasn't ill. I went to Howenstowe because I was... confused."

Barbara sat on the couch opposite his chair and tucked her feet up under her. She cradled her cup in both hands and took a noisy slurp before speaking. "About what?"

"You."

Barbara recoiled against the seat. "Me?"

"You..." Tommy took a deep breath. "You've been different lately. With me. You... you've been distant. I feel like you're slipping away. That I'm losing you. And... well, it's tearing me apart. I have never felt so alone."

Barbara's face changed. It moved from anger through to sadness in an instant. "I... we were spending too much time together. You were using me as a crutch."

Tommy shook his head. "I'm sorry if I was a burden. I thought we were friends."

"We were... are. I just thought we needed space."

Tommy scratched his eye but was wiping away unwanted moisture that was forming. He did not want Barbara to see him distressed, but he was not sober enough to invoke his defences. Her words had stung him. "We need space? I've heard that before when Helen left me."

"It's not the same."

Barbara's voice was low and quivered slightly. He looked up and saw the pain in her eyes. "Then what is it, Barbara? Why do you need space?"

She drank some of her coffee but watched him over the rim. Eventually, she replied. "You weren't socialising with anyone. You were spending all your time with me."

"Did you stop to think that was because I wanted to be with you?"

"I know you did, but I was safe. You needed more."

"Is that what you think? That I only spent time with you because I was scared to be with anybody else?"

Barbara closed her eyes. "Yeah. You weren't looking for... love. You had settled for companionship. And that's not what you need."

Tommy felt his heckles rise. "And you know this how?"

"Sir, Helen's been gone a long time now. You need someone. Someone special who understands you. Someone you can love. You weren't out looking while I was... your friend."

"You think I need someone special who understands me? Why, when I already have that?"

"But you don't have it... you need more than a best friend, Sir. I thought that if I stepped back, you could kickstart your life. Find someone who loves you."

"I see. So you don't I take it?"

"What?"

"Love me."

Barbara jumped from the couch and headed for the kitchen. "More coffee?"

Her voice was strained. "You didn't answer my question," Tommy called after her.

"You can't ask me that. It's not fair."

He stood and followed her to the kitchen. He put his cup on the bench and walked up behind her. "Why not?"

"Because..." She hung her head over the sink and sighed. "Because you know I do. You rely on that. You don't..." She stopped speaking when he put his hands on her shoulders.

"But I do."

"As a friend, yes, not as..." She turned and gave him a savage glare. Tears welled in her eyes. "Why did you come here?"

"Because I missed you. I had never felt more lonely than when you started backing away. I need you as much as I need air or water. I don't need anyone else because I love you. As my friend but also as far more than a friend. I've known it for years, but I told myself it was friendship, or like my family, or any other excuse to avoid facing reality."

"Don't."

"Barbara, am I not being clear enough? I do love you those ways, but I am also in love with you, in a romantic sense. A sexual sense. Every damned sense. Am I making a complete fool of myself?"

Barbara looked down. "Yeah."

Tommy let his hands drop and stepped back. "I see."

When she looked up, tears started to roll down her cheeks. "Not for that reason, you idiot. Just because... look at us, standing in my kitchen saying things I never dreamt I would hear from you. Me about to tell you that..."

Tommy stepped towards her. He was still unsure what she was going to say, but he sensed she was struggling to find the words.

"Promise me that you mean it, Tommy. Really mean it."

He could not help but smile at the way she said his name. The world felt alive again. "I swear, Barbara. I mean every word."

She inhaled slowly. He took a step closer, ready to pull her into his arms. He understood how hard it was to admit something that had stayed suppressed for years.

"I've...I've loved you when I shouldn't have, Tommy, and so... I don't deserve to have you."

Tommy put his arms around her, resting his hands on her shoulder blades, but did not pull her close. Not yet. Not until she had said everything she needed to say. "Why not? You deserve a medal for loving me after all I've put you through."

"You don't understand. I fell in love with you years ago. Before..."

"Before Helen?"

Barbara looked away. "Yes. I wanted to hate you, but I didn't. Even that first day when your heart was breaking over Deborah. You were so... sad. I fell for that vulnerable, caring, sentimental side of you, and then during the case, I began to love you for your mind and sense of justice. When you supported me, listened to me, treated as... well not an equal, but at least as a trusted partner, I just kept falling deeper and deeper. And yes, being easy on the eye didn't hurt either."

"Easy on the eye. I think I should be flattered."

"Don't get too big a head."

" I won't. That's one of the things I love about you. You stood up to me. No one had before, and I needed it. You never treated me like a rich kid playing at my job. I appreciated that. So many dismissed my intentions, but you understood me. I just never realised what it meant. I had a distorted image of what love was supposed to be. I was wrong. Your love was tangible, at least in hindsight. I'm sorry."

Barbara nodded. "And all these years, you never suspected how I felt?"

"I did, but I categorised it as the same lofty ideal I had about how I felt about you. Love, yes it was, but I had a romanticised version of some higher connection that existed outside of the traditional romantic bounds."

"Yeah, see that's the issue, Tommy. You've never fancied me. Even now. I still think you are more in love with the idea of being in love than you are with me."

He shook his head. "Simply not true. I didn't believe something that came so easily could be that type of love. But I did... do fancy you as you put it. A lot actually. I tried hard not to, but I did. I used to have dreams about making love to you."

"You did? Were we any good together?" For the first time, she smiled at him. Just a small grin, but it went straight to his heart, and his groin.

He matched her with a broad, cheeky grin. "Oh, yes. Most definitely."

They stood looking at each other, trying to confirm their words in each other's eyes. Barbara took the final quarter step that brought her into his arms. As her body touched him, he felt a wave of contentment rippling from his feet to his ears. He enfolded her in his arms and held her close. Her heartbeat reverberated against his chest. He smiled harder because the rhythm matched his - their hearts were beating as one.

It took him a few seconds to realise they were kissing. Their faces had come together automatically. Again, their mouths moved in a natural rhythm as if they had been kissing each other for years. Yet it was not mundane or formulaic. They just instinctively knew what each other wanted and liked.

They rested her foreheads together, panting. "Tommy?"

He caressed her neck and moved his fingers softly through her hair. "Mmm?"

"Before we... do anything irrevocable, is this what you want? Me? Rough edges and all? Are you sure? I'm not what people expect of you. I'm..."

"The woman I love. I don't care about the rest. Yes, this is what I want. You are everything to me, Barbara. But is it what you want? Will I make you happy?"

Barbara took his hand. "You always have. Should we...?"

Tommy kissed her forehead then shook his head. "Yes, but not here. Let's go somewhere special. We only have one first time together. I want it to be something you always treasure."

Barbara ran her fingers down his face. He shivered. He had never wanted anything quite as much as he wanted Barbara. "It will be, here or anywhere."

"Paris."

"France?"

"Mmm, last time I checked. Or we could fly to Las Vegas and be married."

"Tommy! Slow down."

He grinned at her. "Sorry, but..." He looked at her and saw his feelings mirrored. "I'm happy. For the first time in years, I'm truly happy."

Barbara gave him a beautiful, open smile and began to lead him to her room. "We don't need to go to Paris, or even the Savoy. All we need is each other."


End file.
